Twisted Vows of Seduction (16 page)

Tiffany pulled up in his sparkling blue Toyota Solara drop-top convertible right as Ménage was coming out of the airport. Although Ménage had seen Tiffany roll up, he honked twice, just as Ménage knew that he would. Tiffany loved attention and he sure was getting it. Everybody was looking as if trying to figure out who was this Nicki Minaj look-alike in drag. He had on his neon pink wig, Barbie pink lipstick, and matching nail polish. His tight black tank exposed his large breasts and his electric blue tights showed off his shapely legs and new ass shots. But he wouldn't be the glamorous diva he was without rocking his Versace shades.

“Soooo…how did it go, diva?” Tiffany probed before Ménage could get both feet in the car. She tossed her carry-on case in the backseat and strapped on her seatbelt. Tiffany stared at her in anticipation.

“You're looking at a movie star in the making,” Ménage exclaimed, firing up a cigarette.

“Bitch, I told you you were going to get the part!” Tiffany rejoiced,
high-fiving Ménage in the process. He pulled off into the moving lane, occasionally looking over at Ménage as she spilled all the goods.

“Girl, I got several parts!” Ménage confessed. “And one of them was a big-ass dick!” she bragged. “And that shit was so good I can still feel it slithering up my spine,” she said, shimmying in her seat for emphasis as she occasionally took a pull off the cigarette.

“Say what! Bitch, you done went down there and snagged you some of that New Orleans grocery meat.”

“Baby yes. And I made a chunk of change out of it.”

“You lucky bitch!”

“Don't hate! Congratulate. Ha, ha, ha. I put it on his ass so good he thought Hurricane Katrina was up in that bitch.”

“Ewww-weee. Ha, ha, ha! I ain't mad atcha. But was he fine though? That's all I want to know.”

Ménage gave Tiffany the look. “Girl, he look like Lil Wayne on steroids. Tats, dreads, and every damn thing! He looked like something out of the wilderness.”

Tiffany scrunched his face. “Sound like he belong on aww hell naw dot com.”

They both fell into hearty laughter and maintained that energy all the way home.

When Ménage walked inside her dark apartment, the pungent fish odor caused her nose to turn up. She had forgotten to take out the trash before she'd left. “Got damn!” she cursed under her breath, realizing that the smell was coming from the leftover sushi she had thrown in the trash two days ago. She located a bottle of air freshener, aired the place out, then hurried to take out the garbage.

When she returned, she checked the time before rushing to the bathroom to shower. She had at least three hours to freshen up, get changed, and get to work. Tonight was Big Titty Tuesday and she was scheduled to perform.

Dripping wet, Ménage grabbed a towel from the closet and dried off. She quickly dressed into a pair of white sheer booty-strangling boy shorts, and a matching sheer tank. She slipped on some sandals and grabbed her traveling case, which held her outfit for tonight's show. Also inside was a change of clothes, several pairs of g-strings, toiletries and makeup. She was going to rock the stage like she never rocked it before.

Half an hour later Ménage entered through the backdoor of the infamous nightclub, X-Rated. Judging by the parking lot, it was a full house tonight. The energy was high, the music was bumping, and Ménage would bet that there were at least 200 rock-hard dicks upstairs, waiting to get close and personal with her. Everyone knew she was the HBIC (Head Bitch In Charge) up in there. She made the most money, had the most return customers, and all the strippers respected her hustle. In fact, those that weren't clocking it like she was sat back and took notes.

Ménage spoke to a few of the other girls in passing. She made it a point to be extra friendly with the waitresses. They were like her agents in a way. They found the goldmines and led her right to them. Cindy, also known as Chocolate Butter, was a white girl trapped in a black girl's body. Ménage thought the girl was a ding bat at times, but the men loved her. She was built like a stallion and had a real pretty face, and in this game, that's all it took to get by.

“Hey, Ménage!” Cindy said as she walked up. “Girl, you're going to make some money tonight. Most of them brothers up there looking for you.”

“Already. Definitely what I wanted to hear. How'd you do?”

“Not so good. But, hey, the night is still young.”

Ménage nodded, knowing that was wishful thinking because once she hit the stage, she was going to suck the blood out of every dick in there while milking their pockets. So there wasn't going to be any leftovers.

As she began to transform, she looked up at the wall clock. It was almost time. When she was finished, she double-checked herself in the mirror, then anxiously headed upstairs to get that money.

She waited behind the pink velvet curtain for the current slow jam that was playing to come to an end.

“Now fellas, I got something real nice and nasty in store for you tonight,” Ménage heard the DJ announce. She peeked from behind the curtain to see that the club was jam-packed all the way from the bar to the main stage. There wasn't an empty seat in sight and the men, and women that looked like men, began clapping and yelling for him to bring it on.

“You already know what time it is. I know it's Big Titty Tuesday, but this fine hot thang is what I call a double shot!” The crowd roared in excitement as they waved and flashed the money in their hands. “X-Rated, get your money together so we can pay some bills in this bitch!” the DJ hollered as he turned the pink light on over the stage. “Now show some Big Titty love for my girl, Ménage!” he sang as her theme music started to play.

Ménage came from behind the curtain donned in a super sexy sheer leopard print bra and skirt trimmed with black fur. Her matching garter straps and seven-inch stilettos added to the wicked fantasy she hoped would fulfill her regulars and prospective regulars tonight. She swayed her hips to the song's prelude.

Her oiled skin was dusted in a shimmering gold glitter, and her
sixteen-inch hair weave draped past her shoulders and down her back. She surveyed the club, making eye contact with every eye in the room as she moved her body to the beat beginning to fuse in.

She began mouthing her heavily glossed lips to the lyrics of the Weeknd's “Wicked Games” as she danced, translating the words sexually.

“Bring your love baby I can bring my shame
…” Ménage slowly began to shed her bra. As she did so, money began to fly from every direction of the room. She moved her body in a sexy rhythm as she slid out her long ornamented tongue. She squeezed her oiled luscious breasts together and flicked the leopard spiked ball across both her swollen pierced nipples, causing the crowd to go wild. She could feel all eyes on her, and that was enough to get her pussy leaking with excitement.

“…give me all for this, I need confidence in myself
.”

She teasingly danced out of her skirt, then slid to the floor. She crawled across the stage, collecting money with her mouth and breasts. When she found her biggest tipper, she did her signature move. She scooted to the edge of the stage, spread her legs in a V-shape, and made her pussy blow bubbles. He started popping bands and began dealing out a full stack. She counted at least a grand and was positive there was more where that came from. She couldn't see his face due to the darkness of the club, but she could see the green flying out of his hands. She found a money train and she wasn't getting off of it.

She lay all the way back, then jiggled her legs and thighs in the air, making her ass clap like crazy. Ménage stretched her legs into an upside-down split and motioned for her big spender to come closer. She grabbed one of the bills he'd just thrown on her, laid it across her pussy, and seconds later, the bill went twirling in the
air, landing right on her stomach. She did it a second time for the non-believers. And again she blew air out of her pussy, converting Benjamin Franklin into a sexy-ass ballerina.

Her new best friend leaned in to place his face closer between her thighs. He ran his long fingers across her pubic area and she could feel his fingers tracing her tattoo. Without a break in her performance, she began to grind on his entire arm. Money continued to pour from every direction, but the big spender whose left hand was still palming her pussy, had all of her attention right now.

As the song came to an end, Ménage leaned forward to offer him a VIP service. “We can go to the back if you want a
real
private dance.”

He removed his black Gucci shades.

“I knew the second I walked through that door that that was my pussy on this stage.”

“Oh my God. Slug!” Ménage uttered, barely able to catch her breath.

“Get your shit and let's bust a move.”

Ménage quickly hopped up, collected all her money, and rushed off the stage. Her past had come to visit her, but she hoped like hell that it didn't plan on staying.

N
adine peered out at the spectacular view of downtown Dallas. Her corner office suite jutted thirty-two floors above ground level and it overlooked the plentiful array of some of the finest architectural office buildings, eateries, and nightclubs in the city. Nadine appreciated the fact that she still had an office to sit in and a window to look out of in this political and economic climate, and even more after being penalized $200,000 by SEC (Securities and Exchange Commission) for Denise's role in the accounting violations that overstated the company's income by a long shot. Nadine was positively certain they would shut the doors to Platinum Crest Investments forever. And maybe if they had, she wouldn't be under the pressure she was now.

The past year had been challenging and every day that rolled by seemed tougher to get through. Since Barack Obama had made it through to a second term, she hoped he'd finish what he started and turn things around. Fast! Her clients, mostly wealthy Republicans, were not so easy to appease these days.

Nadine remembered when she enjoyed coming to work every day. Now as she sat sulking in Denise's old office, immersed in worldly problems while trying to recover from the news her partner had just laid on her, that love Nadine once had for her job seemed as distant as a childhood memory.

She tried relaxing some by taking short deep breaths as she gazed
out of the window, but that simple technique took all the energy and strength that she could muster. She had just lost another one of her large accounts, and to make matters more depressing, the volatile market wasn't showing any signs of an early turnaround. The stock market had slumped again resulting in the Dow and S&P closing out at an all-time low yesterday. Even the annual percentage yield on the ten-year Treasury note wasn't looking pretty. Nadine sighed deeply, terrified to see what today's numbers were going to look like.

Ring
!

Nadine picked up the call on the first ring. “Nadine speaking,” she answered, seeing that it was Belinda, her new office assistant.

“There's a Mr. Adams here to see you,” Belinda said.

“Who?” Nadine asked more in disbelief.

“Greg Adams,” Belinda repeated.

Nadine rolled her eyes at the mention of the name. She cleared her throat. “Go ahead and send him back, please.”
What in the hell does he want
?

“Will do.”

Nadine sat up straight in her chair. She lowered the soft jazz music coming from her computer and waited for him to enter her door. The door slowly opened and in walked the man she'd hoped she'd never have to see again. “What do you want?” Nadine unloaded without so much as a greeting.

Greg walked slowly toward her spotless glass desk, but not before checking out her office as if he were searching for something.

“Excuse me.” Nadine waved her hand. “I'm over here.”

Greg finally made himself comfortable in the chair directly across from her before even being offered a seat. “Is this how you greet all of your clients?” he asked, eyeing her strangely. “Or am I just special?”

Nadine's face twisted into a disgusting frown. “Why are you here, Mr. Adams?”

“The last time I checked, I
still
have money here,” Greg replied. “So I have every right to be here.”

He smiled, but Nadine wanted to slap the taste right out of his mouth. Everything about him had her on edge and she hated that eerie feeling she got whenever he were in the same space as her. She pressed her lips tightly together and looked at him.

“In fact, how is the market treating me?”

She inhaled sharply. “If you don't mind, I will have Veronica go over your financials with you.” Nadine reached for the phone to call the other broker, but before she could pick it up to dial Veronica's extension, Greg put his hand on top of hers to stop her.

“I didn't only come here for that,” Greg said finally.